


"I See You"

by DeputyMom62



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeputyMom62/pseuds/DeputyMom62
Summary: A one-shot that demanded freedom.  This story deals with PTSD, survivor's guilt and the assorted misery that comes along with those two demons.   If you are of a delicate constitution with regard to either issue, I would suggest finding another story.  My background is in horror shorts.  Be warned.





	"I See You"

Every breath was fire. Each blade thrust into gray, scarred flesh left her arms burning. She could feel herself falter, weakening after hours of battle against an enemy that appeared to have no limit in number or ferocity. Powerful legs that had, again and again, vaulted her high into the air where she spun with grace, cleaving heads from shoulders, now shook with exhaustion. She knew she was nearly done and had little more to give. So much easier to simply let down her guard, let it be done and find peace in the Halls of Mandos.

Without fail, just as she was certain she could not swing her blade one more time, not even to save herself, she saw him.

Sometimes, he stood so close to her that she could hear him grunt with effort, as he spun his twin swords this way and that; clearing a deadly path before and around him. So close, she could feel the air stir with each fatal stroke. So close, she could smell the scent of earth and cedar and… him.

Other times, he was a barely visible spot on the horizon; sun gleaming off silver hair and shining armor. He was death incarnate, and so very beautiful in his terror; her King.

His eyes had found her own during the battle many times. It was as though he intentionally sought out as many of his warriors as he could as often as he could. He would look into the eyes of each and every Elf, into their very fea and find their fear, their weariness. He would look upon each of them, and every Ellon or Elleth who was captured by his gaze would feel his grace pass unto them; his own strength, his courage. All would stand again and fight or fall proudly defending their King, but none would accept defeat, and none would dare flee.

"Din, dago pan!” (Kill them all!) His voice rang out like thunder above the noise of the battlefield. A chorus of Elven voices responded with renewed fervor “Din dago pan!”

 

The bellowing of war beasts, the clash of steel on steel and the screams of the dying faded into stillness and settled with the dust. It seemed that only moments before she couldn't hear her own voice as she snarled and raged at the enemy. Now there was silence, but in it, she found no comfort.

Her sensitive ears were still ringing from the battle. Her throat was raw from hours of screaming commands or warnings to her fellows. She knew that she had taken injury, many times, but she felt nothing. She was past feeling anything, past caring anymore.

She watched as the King of the Woodland Realm crossed silently over a battlefield strewn with bodies. Humans, Dwarves, and Elves had battled side by side bravely and to the last. Now they lay together in brotherhood.

The King raised his head, and his indigo eyes met her amethyst gaze again from across the bloodied ground. How many times this day had he found her, his eyes holding hers? She did not drop her eyes as was customary in the great halls. This was no place for courtly mannerisms or social protocol. This was a field of death, and the eyes that looked back at him did so with an intimacy shared by those who have faced death and dealt it in fair measure.

His noble head nodded to her, the smallest of movements, and she returned the gesture before setting off to find and claim the bodies of her now dead brethren. Only she, out of all the ellon and elleth of her regiment, had survived the battle. One word repeated in her mind over and over again. Why?

She cast a final look behind her and watched as broad shoulders covered in silver tresses continued to move carefully among the bodies of the fallen. She knew that he was committing to memory each face and name in preparation for the long journey home and the return of his beloved warriors to their families.

_"Why? I would have gladly given myself for any of them! I tried… In Eru’s name, why am I spared? I have no one waiting to welcome me home! None would miss me, not one! All that I had left, all that I loved, now lie dead at my feet. I return home to elflings who will grieve for their adar or their naneth. Sundered mates who will face the ages alone or fade… and here I stand. Why?"_

Only the calls of the ravens as they descended on the dead answered her.

 

 

He held his shoulders square, his eyes ever watchful for danger to his people. Songs of grief for those that had fallen surrounded him. Beneath the voices, he often heard soft moans of pain from those who fought to stay alive, wishing only to see their families and their beloved Woodland Realm one last time before seeking Namo’s comfort.

For the living, there would be little time for comfort. The enemy was not yet beaten, and the day would yet be long. A second wave had been sighted just beyond the borders of the city of Dale though it could hardly be called a city now. It had been little more than rubble before the first wave of orcs and fell beasts had devastated what was left of the human dwellings.

Hearing the pained cry of a young guard near him, the King brought his mount to a stop and halted the wagon bearing the injured ellon. Climbing carefully alongside the wounded Elf, he gently picked him up and held him in his arms.  
What he spoke to the dying soldier was lost to the elves who looked on, but the smile that graced the eternally young face as he looked into the eyes of his King, was one that none of them would easily forget.

Thranduil held him tightly yet with gentle care until the young guard drew his last breath. He then carefully laid him back down and covered him while whispering a prayer to the Valar to see his faithful warrior cared for.

He looked up from the ravaged but now peaceful face and found himself staring once more into the haunted eyes of a young elleth. The same elleth he had seen fighting with the ferocity of a she-demon throughout much of the battle. He had been in equal measure proud of her courage and angered by her apparent lack of self-preservation, and had decided he would confront her at an appropriate time once they had returned to the Realm.

He was shaken by the pain he saw reflected within her strange eyes. _“I see you.”_

She felt her chest constrict at his unspoken words and the deeper meaning she felt conveyed by them. He was the Elven King; it was within his power to hear the thoughts of all his subjects if he chose to do so, to speak to them in thoughts, in dreams. The King had seen her broken soul, and it had shaken her to her core. She was at a loss as to why her King would even bother with one lone, damaged Elf, and confused by what his words could potentially mean. Had he caught her out? She quickly lowered her eyes in shame.

“Aran nin?” Distracted, Thranduil turned his gaze away from the dark haired warrior. What he had found in the depths of her oddly colored and mournful eyes had left him deeply concerned.

The worried voice of his Captain pulled at his attention yet again. “Aran nin, the enemy will soon be upon us. It would be wise to make haste…” The brash ellon quickly grew still and silently cursed his choice of words as soon as silver-blue eyes flashed in his direction.

Thranduil gracefully leaped from the wagon to stand directly before the unfortunate young officer, allowing him to take full measure of the King who now stood far too close for his personal comfort. Thranduil allowed several more moments of uncomfortable silence before growling “I believe you wanted my attention, Captain, you have it.”

The shaken young Captain immediately fell to his knees and stared at the booted feet before him. “Geheno nin, Aran nin!” He spoke quickly, barely audible to the silently watching elves surrounding the frightened ellon and the very obviously irritated monarch. All around, no one dared breathe, let alone speak for fear that furious eyes would fall upon them next.

The kneeling soldier felt the hand of his King touch the side of his face, but respect and an even greater sense of fear kept him from taking his eyes off the blood-spattered boots that had stepped closer to him. “Rise faithful one, be at peace” the King spoke in gentler tones, intent on easing his Captain's fear of reprisal.

The Elven King continued to hold the Ellon's face and offered his hand to bring him to stand before him. He guided the shaken Captain to look at him, softening his eyes to assure the now completely awestruck ellon that he was not about to find his own broken body alongside the other wounded. “You speak truly, Captain, give the command to proceed."

Still fearful but grateful to be in the King’s good grace after what he knew was a terrible breach of conduct, and thankful for the forbearance of a King known for his lack of tolerance for such transgressions; the ellon bowed deeply in respect and turned to do his King’s bidding.

She turned away before her King could find her again and pulling her hood further over her face, re-joined the remnants of the Kings guard as they saw the injured moved to safety and prepared for the coming battle. Over and over, his voice repeated in her thoughts, _"I see you,"_ and she found herself pulled, if only for a little while, from the pain…

 

 

She forced herself to focus on nothing but the effort that it took to keep pushing forward. There was no destination in mind, no plan of attack beyond cutting down anything that stepped into her path. The small courtyard she fought within was suffocating.

The sound of metal on metal, the screams, all intensified by the forced close proximity of combat. She found herself wishing for the open battlefield and the hope of seeing the flash of a silver mane, the glare of indigo eyes that dared her to surrender to her anguish.

She was distracted for a moment by the sight of a young male who could not yet have reached his majority even as the humans reckoned it. She watched as he stumbled backward, swinging a sword wildly at the two Orcs approaching him. Even in the midst of the battle whirling around them, the two foul beasts meant to enjoy drawing this kill out.

The boy was terrified, and with nowhere left to go, it was only a matter of time before he met with a truly gruesome death. The smaller of the two foul beasts easily knocked the blade form the youngling's untrained hands before quickly severing his arm below the elbow.

She watched as the boy looked from the stump of his arm to the severed appendage lying at his feet. He simply sat down, still staring at the now detached limb which continued to dump steaming blood onto the snow. He pressed his back against the base of a large fountain, unmoving, seemingly resigned to his fate.

She changed her path, tried to move towards the doomed youth but was cut off, again and again, forced to fight for her own life.

The larger of the two Orcs stepped forward and snatched the arm from the ground. It leaned over the boy before tearing each finger off and chewing it slowly, all the while leering into the stunned and quickly greying face of its prey. The smaller of the two beasts would not be denied its own share of the spoils. Squatting down behind the larger Orc, it grabbed at handfuls of bloodied snow, shoving them quickly it into his mouth before it could be driven back by its larger kin.

She screamed for the youngling to take some action, to raise his sword to do anything but allow himself to be slowly dissected by the two fell beasts who were now both shoveling bloodied snow into their drooling mouths as though it were a confection.

Still, the boy did not move, he sat staring and holding is ruined arm to his chest. “Gives us more of the sweet!” the larger of the two rasped as he slowly dragged the ragged edge of his blade over the boy's abdomen, a surge of blood and viscera poured over the boy's hands and lap before turning the mud and snow around him into a crimson pool.

The smell of blood drew the attention of two more Orcs who had finished playing with an elderly woman found hiding beneath a broken wagon. They had delighted in dragging the screaming human through the sharp debris before each took a leg and tore her in half.

The smaller of the two orcs who had originally cornered the boy raised his blade to cut another piece from the prize but was startled by a shriek of fury and the impact of an elvish blade as it was sheathed in its misshapen head. The beast fell to the ground where it was immediately set upon by the two orcs who had followed the scent of blood to the injured boy.

She hoped to dispatch the largest Orc and then deal with the two furthest from the boy. Leaping in front of the young human, she swung both swords at the putrid mass that was still feasting on gore. Easily catching him off guard, she drove both blades into its belly as far as she could causing the Orc to fall over the edge of the fountain.

That left her to deal with two, a task that was not necessarily difficult but she was now without weapons and both orcs now brandished spears tipped with deadly black poison.

She cast a glance at the boy and new with certainty that he was beyond pain now, eyes staring blankly back at her. She knew that she could outrun the beasts in front of her with ease, and make her way out of this doomed courtyard to live to fight another day.

 _“Live and fight another day.”_ The notion held no appeal for her.

She had no desire to see another day, let alone fight. She wanted peace, and she determined that she would have it. She would not leave this human boy to be meat for the beasts. She would not allow his family to find his body, what was left of it, desecrated by Morgoth’s filth.

The orcs grinned as they carefully moved towards her. They recognized prey that had lost the will to fight. It would be far less pleasurable for them this way but, a kill was a kill and to snuff the light of even one of the Eldar, was sweet no matter how it was managed.

 

 

Cerulean eyes that had witnessed the fall of Doriath and the rise of the province of Man now mapped the faces of his people lying broken at his feet. Eternity was granted to them, the Eldar, the First Born; and denied by a selfish King. _“What have I done?”_

None who looked on would have seen his pain, the misery he took solely upon himself for the bloodied battlefield now silent. He was Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm and widely regarded as the greatest warrior Arda had ever known, wise and lethal in equal measure. On this day he felt neither wise nor worthy of the crown he wore.

Cobbled streets that had earlier been overrun by those fleeing from the enemy to seek safety in the Great Hall or those running courageously towards the screams of the innocent were now devoid of any movement.

With great care, he walked the narrow passageways in search of any who might yet live. He no longer distinguished between the races of elves, men and dwarves for the blood that stained the snow and soaked his boots was simply red. A great battle was won this day, but there were no cheers of victory.

He felt pulled toward a fountain at the center of what should have been a bustling market place. Statues created in the crude manner of Men depicted a woodland scene, a doe chiseled from stone appeared to stand guard over the fallen.

It was here that his eye fell on the lifeless stare of a dark-haired elleth with eyes the color of amethyst.

It was apparent from the way she lay that she had used her body as a shield for the mortally wounded human beneath her. She had willingly given her life for one who had no hope of surviving the grievous injuries he had taken.

He stared, unblinking, unwilling to accept the scene before him. He rebuked himself for not having removed her from the ranks earlier, for not protecting her from herself.

“I see you.” His voice was barely a whisper.  

He stood watching the snowflakes that dusted her face and eyelashes then let his gaze move further out, peering into lifeless eyes all around him.

“Captain, recall your company…”

**Author's Note:**

> I Beta for three amazing writers and without their support and encouragement, I would never have taken a risk and posted. Thank you, my lovely ladies... TigereyesF / KayleighH2203 / Cheap_Plastic_Bouncy_Ball. TigereyesF, I put a special shout out to my favorite story by you, within my story... ; )  
> While I do not Beta for these two, I am a HUGE fan of both and appreciate the encouragement they both gave me... leelee202 / AnnEllspethRaven. If you have not read the works created by all of these writers, you must.  
> They are all far more talented than I am. I welcome comments, that's how we improve. I am not fragile nor easily insulted.


End file.
